


The truth is in the heart

by Jadesymb



Series: Instincts [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Homophobic Language, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesymb/pseuds/Jadesymb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's got some amnesia issues going on, but both Clint and Phil are practicing self-denial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clint’s eyelids fluttered, his head turned towards Phil, and his fingers twitched. Phil sighed in relief. “There you are. It’s going to be okay. You’re in medical again, the team’s fine. I’m here.” Phil leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Clint’s forehead, careful to avoid the bandage. When Phil pulled back, Clint’s eyes were open. Phil smiled down at Clint, about to lean in and brush his lips against Clint’s surprisingly soft ones. Clint’s eyes went wild, and he struggled backwards, yanking his hand out of Phil’s. 

“Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck am I?” Clint’s voice was rough and panicked.

“It’s okay Clint, you’re in Medical.” Phil reached for Clint’s hand again, planning to soothe him with a touch, but Clint pulled back with a violent jerk.

“Get away from me, fucking faggot! Where...where’s Barney?” Clint’s head snapped around.

Clint’s words felt like a blow to Phil’s chest, but the agent recovered quickly. He kept his face blank, businesslike. “What is the last thing you remember?” Coulson pressed the switch on the wall to summon a nurse. 

Barton looked around wildly one more time, before warily meeting Coulson’s eyes. “I’m not sure? The Circus. Something was wrong. I can’t.....”

“Lie back. The nurse will be in shortly. You hit your head. Let’s start at the top. You are safe in medical. My name is Agent Coulson, and you report into me. Tell me your name, the date, your birthday and place of birth.” Coulson sat down in the chair next to the bed, and settled in for a long night.

\------

Natasha showed up hours later, and Coulson met her in the waiting room, far enough away that they wouldn’t be overheard. 

“How is he?” 

“Physically? Well enough; the usual collection of abrasions, bullet holes, and head wounds. One bad shot through and through on his leg. Mentally? He doesn’t remember anything past the circus. He doesn’t remember us. The Avengers. Me. He asked where Barney was. They’re running more tests. I think it might be a good idea if you sat with him for a while. I seem to make him,” Phil sighed, his shoulders sagging, the calm professionalism vanishing, “uncomfortable.” 

A confused look flitted briefly across Natasha’s face, and then her eyes opened just a touch wider as understanding dawned on her. “What happened?” She attempted to guide Phil to sit in a chair, taking his hand in hers.

Phil slumped heavily in the chair, eyes down to the floor. “I know he had issues. I know that his first major crush was on a man at the circus, and that his brother tried to beat him straight once or twice. I always suspected it went deeper than that, whatever happened, Clint never liked to talk about it, and we left it alone. I was holding his hand when he woke. I kissed his forehead.” Phil was not going to cry. “It made him uncomfortable. We’ll leave it at that. I need you to go in and take care of him for me, please?”

Natasha nodded. “Of course.”

“If he asks about me, tell him, I’m a co-worker, a friend, the SHIELD liaison to the Avengers. Don’t tell him more than that for now, please. The doctors don’t have a medical reason to keep him here, although they want him for another couple hours of observation. So far their best advice on the memory issue is to take him to familiar places, see if something jogs his memory. Either way Clint will need to go through the SHIELD standard psychological protocol in a couple of days, which should help even more. When he’s ready, maybe take him to the range? He probably shouldn’t stand and shoot, but that’s never stopped him before.” 

Natasha raised one eyebrow at him, but nodded again. Phil took a moment, composed himself, and then stood. “I’ve got a project to complete at the tower. I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

“No, we’ll meet you at the tower. Get some sleep. I’ve got Clint’s back. And yours.”

Coulson nodded, and headed out. It was going to be a long day.

\----

The redhead walked into Clint’s room, and his head snapped up instantly . She managed a smile at him, and his mouth quirked in a familiar way. “I know you!” He said it very firmly.

“Yes. Rather well. Do you know who I am?” She asked.

Clint smirked, “My girlfriend.“

“At least we know you’re still an unrepentant flirt. Ex-girlfriend. Now we’re on a team together, been through a lot together over the last few years. I’m here to help. Can you remember my name?”

“Why Ex?” 

The woman shook her head. “I’d rather keep the details to myself for now. We are good together but not when we were sleeping together. We work better like this. I’m Natasha.”

“Are you usually honest with me? I feel like I can trust you for some reason.”

“I will always watch your back. The doctors want you to rest for a few more hours, then I’ll take you down to the cafe to get lunch. After lunch, Coulson wants us to hit the range, see if you still can hit a target. We won’t stay long, unless you’d like to practice prone or sitting to take the shot. You need to stay off your leg for a few weeks. Do you remember how to get around on crutches? I’d think by now that should be covered under muscle memory.” Nat replied.

“What’s with Coulson?” Clint looked away from her, “He kept, I don’t know, hovering? What the hell is up with that?”

“Coulson has your back, too. The three of us are like family. You can trust him.” Nat took Clint’s hand in her own, and Clint gripped it tightly.  
\-----

Coulson hated to ask. He hated to. But he knew he didn’t have enough time to take care of this on his own. The doctors wanted Clint in comforting and familiar places. They were optimistic that his memories would return over time, but they admitted they weren’t certain of anything. Clint claimed his favorite place was in bed with Phil, but Coulson didn’t think that was a very good idea right now, given Clint’s reactions to him. Clint’s second favorite place was the air ducts, but with his leg, he should probably stay out of them for at least a week. Which left Clint’s third favorite place, the balcony with the glass floor just off of their suite at the Tower. Clint would need to go through their room to get there. And he should sleep in his own bed tonight. Which meant that Phil shouldn’t be there, not if he wanted to keep Clint low stress. So Coulson knew what needed to be done.

“Stark!” Coulson called as he walked into the Avenger’s living space. Steve poked his head out from around a corner. 

“Tony’s in his lab. Bruce is still resting from his last Hulk out. Thor and Jane are probably still in their room. How’s Clint? We’re worried about him. The only reason we aren’t all still hanging out in Medical is because you always kick us out.”

“I kick you out because Tony always helps him escape before I’m ready to let him escape. And because I thought he was fine.” 

“Clint’s not fine? What’s wrong?” Steve moved quickly to Phil’s side, placing a comforting hand on Phil’s shoulder, “What can we do?”

“Clint’s having some issues due to the head injury. He doesn’t remember large chunks of his life. The doctors think we need to ease him in, make him comfortable and surround him with familiar things. I don’t want to stress him, so I need to....” Phil looked at the floor, and swallowed his feelings. When Coulson looked up and met Steve’s eyes, there was pain shining behind them, but his voice was steady. “I need to temporarily move out of our rooms. I would appreciate it if Stark could let me know if there is another room at the tower that I can use until Clint is back to normal. And since I’m on a bit of a time crunch, I was hoping you and some of the other Avengers might assist me in packing up a few things and moving them.”

Steve crossed his arms and gave Coulson a look of disapproval, “Don’t you think he needs you there for him more than ever? This is a really bad time to abandon him.” 

“Nevertheless, based on his reaction to me, I think it would be more stressful for him to discover the exact nature of our relationship at this time. I would rather give him a little time to adjust.”

“Nature of your relationship? You want to move out and leave your HUSBAND alone to recover from a bullet wound and a major head injury?” Steve was not happy with this idea at all.

“He won’t be alone. He’ll be here. Assuming Stark can spare a room, I’ll be nearby. And there is you, JARVIS, Natasha, and the rest of the team as well. No one is abandoning him. Now, will you assist me?”

“We are not done talking about this. I think you’re wrong, but I won’t let you move alone,” Steve shook his head in disbelief, “Let’s go find Tony.”

\----

Tony had rooms aplenty, and found one a floor down from what was now “Clint’s.” Coulson tried very hard to make Clint’s rooms look like Clint lived there alone. He cleaned out a few drawers, but then moved some of Clint’s clothes into them. The closet looked odd with only the three suits that Clint owns hung in it. Coulson took any incriminating photos with him, but left the photos that also contained the others. 

Once they were done moving, Phil went back upstairs to do a final check. He was mentally and physically exhausted, and the urge to curl up in his familiar place pulled at him. The earthy dark amber and cedarwood scent of the archer permeated the suite and the memory of them in bed together less than forty eight hours ago was both comforting and depressing. Phil sighed and gave into his impulse to lay down on their bed and close his eyes. He pulled Clint’s pillow into his arms and buried his nose in the comforting smell of Clint. “JARVIS, wake me before Clint and Natasha return.”

“Yes, Agent Coulson.” 

It was a measure of how stressed and tired he was that he didn’t bother to strip out of his moving clothes, and simply allowed himself to drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's got some amnesia issues going on, but both Clint and Phil are practicing self-denial. It's movie night with the Avengers.

Clint was perfect on the range. He hit every target. The weapons were familiar in his hands, and he had no doubt, no hesitation. This was who he is. This was what he was meant to be. The rest seemed unimportant in the release of the bow string, in the satisfaction of finding his target. He wished he could stay there, on the range, where everything made sense and the holes in his memory didn’t apply. But Natasha insisted all too soon that they needed to leave.

“Let’s go home.” She said with a smile, “Maybe seeing the others will help.” Natasha started walking slowly next to Clint down a SHIELD corridor. Clint swung along easily on his one crutch, having claimed that two left him feeling like his hands were full. He had tried, in true Clint fashion, to go without any crutches, but a couple of threats from Natasha had quickly ended that argument.

“I’m still not sure you’re telling me the truth. I mean, I’m a great shot, the best. And the videos you showed me of the Avengers were pretty impressive, but a Superhero team? Really?” Clint shook his head in disbelief. “Also, living with Tony Stark? How is it even possible that I went from being stuck in a circus trailer to having my own rooms in Stark Tower?”

“Blame Coulson. I blame you, but you get to blame him.” Nat deadpanned. 

“Really? This is all his fault somehow?” Clint looked mildly surprised.

“It’s his story to tell. He recruited you, got you out of a bad situation. Actually he’s gotten both of us out of a lot of bad places. We’d both be dead, without him.”

“And you? How is this my fault for you?” Talking about Coulson made Clint feel odd. He didn’t want to think about it too hard.

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life.” Natasha stated evenly. “I was a threat, SHIELD sent you to eliminate me and you decided that that didn't mean I needed to be dead. I suspect that if Coulson hadn’t backed your play, I’d have ended up dead anyway.” She arched a perfect eyebrow at him. He’d noticed she did that a lot, and it was rather sexy. Clint followed his instincts, and moved in closer, pausing in the hall. When Natasha stopped next to him, he put his arm around her waist and tugged her to him. She came easily enough, but when he attempted to go in for a quick kiss, she jerked her head back.

“Normally I’d let you get away with a brief kiss. But I think you were angling for something else. I told you, we don’t sleep together anymore.” She was frowning at him, but she didn’t back all the way out of his embrace, either.

“Who said anything about sleeping? Maybe it’ll bounce my memory back into place. The doctors’ did say I should go to comforting and familiar places, right?” He grinned unrepentantly. 

Natasha shook her head, separated from Clint, and started down the corridor again. “It’s not me you find so comforting.”

\-----

“Agent Coulson, Ms. Romanov has called ahead to inform the Avengers that she is on her way home with Master Clint.” At JARVIS’ voice, Phil’s eyes snapped open. He rolled off the bed quickly, and headed into the bathroom. Only to walk in and remember that all of his stuff was downstairs, in his new room. He sighed, put Clint’s pillow back in place, made the bed, and left the suite.  
\-----

“Welcome home Master Clint, Ms. Romanov.” The voice had come from somewhere above them, and Clint had jerked his head up, looking for the body that went with the voice.

“That’s JARVIS” Nat told Clint, “He’s an AI, and you rather like him, come on.” Natasha lead Clint into the elevator and up to the Avenger’s floors, “It’s Thursday, so movie night.” 

They followed the smells of fresh popped corn into the movie room, and Clint got a look at the team. He found it easy to match the men in the room to the costumed Avengers had seen on Youtube this morning. “Who’s she?” Clint whispered at Nat, and gestured slightly towards a small brunette woman sitting with Thor.

“Hawkeye!” Thor bounced up from his place on a loveseat and greeted the archer with an enthusiastic embrace. Clint’s body had tensed at the contact but Thor quickly released him. “So it is true, you do not remember us! This is my beloved Jane!” Jane responded with a shy smile and small wave.

“You may also run across Pepper and Darcy later, they end up at the Tower often.” Natasha added. Clint nodded absently, he’d match the names and faces when he ran into them. Thor had pulled Jane back into his embrace, and was nuzzling at her neck. 

A man with haphazard hair stepped forward. “Hey Clint. Uh, I’m Bruce. I looked over your medical files. I don’t know if you spoke with the neurologist but your memory loss, is likely due to the head injury and subsequent swelling that was present when you were brought in. Your blood chemistry was also a little off so, I requested further testing and a follow-up MRI when you go in tomorrow. I’ll keep working on it, but at this point my best advice is to go see what the Psychologist says.” Bruce offered a small smile. “Hopefully once the swelling resolves , you’ll wake up feeling like yourself again. And, sorry if it was the Other Guy’s fault when you hit your head. He’s good at catching people who fall off tall buildings, but not always good at gentle.”

The man Clint identified as Captain America stood up, “Clint, I’m Steve. I heard you’ve had a rough day. Why don’t you watch the movie with us.” Steve reclaimed his place at the end of the couch which forced Clint to sit between him and Coulson. 

“Don’t you have any other clothing?” Clint asked Coulson, as the man was perfectly buttoned up in another suit, the shirt and tie a different color from the morning in medical when Clint saw him last. A corner of Coulson’s mouth twitched up. It was a tiny movement, but Clint felt like he’d won some sort of victory, getting that reaction. Warmth infused him, and the urge to smile back was strong. 

Suddenly, Clint found himself lost in the memory of Tim. Tim had been an amazing acrobat in the circus, lythe, sexy, and muscular. Clint had been entranced when Tim had pulled him off into the corner, kissing Clint suddenly. It was everything Clint had wanted, and he had wrapped his arms enthusiastically around Tim, pulling their bodies flush against one another. The feel of Tim’s hands as they massaged at the front of Clint’s pants. And then Barney coming around the corner, the look of disgust crossing his face. The things he’d said, about how it makes a man weak, perverse, wrong. Barney had always been violent towards Clint, but after that night the beatings had escalated. It left Clint with a few physical scars and a twisted feeling about ever touching another man in a sexual way.

“Clint, are you with me?” A hand on his shoulder had snapped him from his memory. Clint jerked away from Coulson as if he’d been burned. A small frown had replaced the expression on Coulson’s face. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.” Clint couldn’t bring himself to look Coulson in the eyes, so he glanced about the room, “Um, what are we watching?”

“One of the Bourne movies, assuming that Bruce can prevent himself from Hulking out at the pseudoscience.” Came a voice behind them. Clint glanced backward and saw Tony Stark entering the room. “JARVIS, cue it up for us.”

Tony didn’t look up from the tablet in his hands, and as soon as he got close to the couch, Steve reached out and grabbed Tony, pulling him into his lap. Tony let out a surprised grunt, but it quickly changed to laughter as Steve settled Tony against him, nipping at Tony’s ear. Clint reacted reflexively and jumped to his feet to get away from the domestic scene. In his haste, he had forgotten about his bullet wound. The searing pain from his leg had caused his knee to buckle, but before he could fall Coulson was there, catching him, pulling him close. Clint was suddenly uncomfortably aware of Coulson’s breath on his cheek and the vague familiarity that came with the lingering scent of Old Spice on Phil’s shirt collar. Clint pulled back quickly and looked wildly around the room, only to realize everyone was staring at him. He didn’t understand how everyone else had been calm, when the other two men had been practically making out on the couch in front of them. His eyes found Nat’s green ones, and he saw sympathy in them. She stood, all liquid grace, and came over to Clint. 

“Here, let me help you get situated.” Clint was lowered to the couch by Nat and Coulson. Nat sat down with him, putting herself between Clint and the queers, a slight frown on her face. Coulson remained standing, despite there still being plenty of room on the couch for all five of them. Apparently Tony liked to go large with his furniture. 

“Clint, can I get you a drink? Popcorn? Painkillers?” Coulson asked. 

Clint forced himself to look at Coulson. There was definitely something which resembled pain lurking behind Phil’s blue gray eyes. “Um, yeah? Some popcorn and soda might be good.”

The movie started, and Coulson eventually returned with popcorn, and a soda Clint didn’t remember ever seeing before. The soda was delicious, but Clint told himself that he was relieved when Coulson chose to sit somewhere else for the rest of the evening, ignoring the twinge of what might have been disappointment. 

\----

Phil had been so happy when Clint had sat next to him, even if it was clearly due to the engineering of Captain America. He just wished Steve had left it at that. Steve and Tony cuddling was typical during movie night, but Steve normally didn’t make such a production of it, usually waiting until the movie started and letting Tony move in closer at his own pace. Earlier, while the Avengers had been packing up Coulson’s stuff, Phil had expounded further on why he was moving out, but he didn’t feel it was his place to share Clint’s past without permission. He thought he’d gotten his point across. Apparently Steve had his own ideas. Unfortunately, Clint’s reaction had supported Phil’s side of the argument and he had barely managed to mask his devastation long enough to get to the kitchen. 

Normally Phil worked on his tablet during movie nights, especially when it was a movie he’d seen before. This time, he had spent most of the movie surreptitiously watching Clint snuggle up next to Natasha from the other side of the room. Phil had not been jealous of Natasha and Clint’s relationship ever since Natasha and Clint had stopped sleeping together. Clint and Natasha both craved physical human contact, but were both too wary to get it from someone they didn’t trust. This meant the three of them had spent lots of time all wrapped up together. On the surface, Clint’s behavior with Natasha during the movie had not been anything unusual. Logically, he understood it. Yet tonight, he found himself struggling to control his own green eyed monster. 

Once the credits rolled, the Avengers spent the standard half an hour or so arguing about the film. Clint made many of the same points he had the first time they’d watched the movie. Eventually Pepper came in and reminded Tony of a meeting in the morning, and the Avengers began to wander off to their own rooms. Coulson retrieved Clint’s crutch, and Natasha unwound herself from Clint, pulling him to his feet. 

“Your room is this way.” Coulson pointed down the hall as he handed off the crutch, careful not to brush his fingers against Clint’s. “As Dr. Banner mentioned, tomorrow you’re going to go into SHIELD medical for a check up, and you’ll have to spend a couple of hours with the psychologist. You aren’t SHIELD’s first amnesic agent, and I doubt you’ll be the last. Natasha can take you in.” 

Natasha met Coulson’s eyes behind Clint’s head and shook her head slightly. Phil made a small, abortive gesture, conveying that she should be the one to take him in. Natasha’s eyebrows knitted together and she frowned. 

“What?” Clint asked, looking confused as he glanced back and forth between the two of them. 

“I’ve got plans tomorrow. Coulson can take you.” Natasha said firmly. 

“Fine. I will take Agent Barton into the office tomorrow. I leave at 9AM. Be ready.” Coulson bit back a sigh. Nine was later than he liked to go in, but he wanted to be sure Clint got some sleep. “Natasha can show you your room. I’m on the floor below this if either of you need anything.” Phil turned and walked toward the stairs before Natasha could make any more faces at him. 

\----  
“This is it. Do you need the guided tour? Or shall I let you find your own way?” Natasha asked Clint as they stood outside an unfamiliar door. 

“Which one is yours? In case I need company?” Clint tried to pass that one off as flirting, but he was loathe to be alone tonight. Still, he had a nagging feeling that it would be best if he explored his home on his own. 

“I’ll be here,” Natasha pointed at the door directly across the hall. “If you need anything, just ask JARVIS to get me. You should try and avoid stumbling around in the dark on a crutch.”

“I’ve got JARVIS in my rooms? Does he like to watch me sleep?” 

Clint started slightly as JARVIS answered, “I am everywhere in the tower Master Clint. Your rooms currently have the privacy setting on in the bedroom and bathroom, so that there are no video feeds available except to authorized users. I do listen in to everything that occurs in the tower.” 

Natasha cut in, “We live an interesting life, and it pays to have someone watching us. Especially when we’ve got memory loss and a bullet wound.” She leaned past Clint and opened the door to his room, gesturing him inside. "I will see you tomorrow.” 

Clint closed the door behind him as the lights came up. The main room was open and airy, done in pale blues with dark purple accents. The first thing Clint noticed was a black and white Captain America poster on one wall, it looked like it might be vintage. Clint thought it was a little bit odd that he worked with Captain America and yet had a poster of him up in his home. Something about that seemed wrong. There was an entertainment center and couch off to one side and a kitchen in the other direction. An antique mahogany desk sat off in one corner, seeming slightly out of place with the rest of the decor. The writing surface appeared lovingly worn, despite being empty. Clint was overcome with an urge to run his fingers across the dark grain when the glass door directly across the main entryway caught his eye. Something was taped to the door. A small table with two chairs was up against the window, and the chair closest to the door had a thick blue blanket draped over it. Past the TV there was a hallway with three doors.

Clint crossed to the glass door, and pulled the paper down. It had his first name written in a clear, precise script. He unfolded it, and read the note inside. “Clint- Try not to spend all night out on the balcony. Take the blanket with you when you go out so you won’t freeze to death. We almost did that once, and neither of us enjoyed it.”

The note wasn’t signed, and Clint worked unsuccessfully to remember who the handwriting belonged to. He took the blanket, threw it over his shoulder, and went out onto the balcony. He knew, instantly he was home. He was so high up, he could see for miles. Clint moved to a chair and sat down heavily, dropping the stupid crutch to the ground. Some of the tiles below him were made of glass, and he could see straight down to the street. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, and let himself relax, go to the place inside himself where he waited to take the shot, where everything lined up, and found comfort in the stillness of watching.


	3. Chapter 3

“JARVIS, I’d like the feed from my, um, from Clint’s room on the TV.” Coulson looked around the room, his stuff piled haphazardly, wherever the Avengers had set it. He really hated the disorganization, but the chaos served to remind him that this move was only temporary.

The TV flickered to life, and Phil watched Clint look around their apartment. He thought Clint might have smiled as he read Phil’s note, felt relief that Clint took the blanket outside. He knew Clint would be out there a while, so he powered up his laptop to get started on some work. If he could get through his inbox tonight, it would smooth over going into the office two hours late. 

Coulson plowed his way through the e-mails, lost in his work. About ninety minutes passed before Phil looked back up. He noted it was just after midnight, so he finally set his laptop on the side table. He checked on the TV, and Clint was still outside on the balcony. 

“JARVIS? Can you please remind Agent Barton that he should come inside? And please, don’t mention that I am the one making the request.” 

“Of course Agent Coulson”

A few minutes later, Phil watched Clint go back inside. Coulson let out a sigh before making one last trip to the bathroom.

\----  
“Master Clint, if I may make a suggestion, perhaps it is time to come inside. You are recently injured.” Clint jumped at the sound of JARVIS’ voice. He rubbed his hands over his face and blinked rapidly for a minute, slowly returning to himself after having been so far into the zone. He realized it was late, and he was cold. Perhaps it was time to locate the shower and get some rest after all.

“Sure thing JARVIS.” Clint retrieved the crutch, pulled himself up and headed back into his home. He wandered down the hall, checked the first door, and found what looked like a small in-home gym, complete with a mirror, treadmill, and full set of free weights. A wide variety of unique weapons decorated two of the walls, including one set of swords that Clint knew he had acquired at the Circus. Clint was tempted to pick them up, but the need for a warm shower was greater, so he closed the door and kept moving. He noticed a smattering of pictures on the wall along the hallway. Some of them seemed oddly spaced, like a few were missing. The pictures mostly contained Natasha, Coulson, and himself. There were also a couple of them with other Avengers. The last picture made him pause. It had the three of them in it, Natasha is in a beautiful green dress, flanked by Clint and Coulson, both in tuxes, all three of them practically glowing with joy. Clint was certain this picture was important but no matter how long he stared at it, he couldn’t remember why this picture made him feel so much longing. 

Frustrated, he opened the door at the end of the hall, to find a king sized bed, sheets all tucked in. In Clint’s messed up memory, he was pretty sure he’d never made a bed without someone threatening him. Maybe Tony Stark had a maid service come through. There was a huge dresser off to one side, and night stands on both sides of the bed. Clint sat on the end of the bed and peeled his clothes off, tossing them onto the floor. He left the crutch next to the bed and half hopped into the large master bathroom. There was a shower with space enough for four people to shower together comfortably, a separate bathtub that was large enough for two adults, double sinks, and a tiny room with a toilet. It seemed like a lot of bathroom for one man, although this was Stark Tower so Clint thought that what he considered to be “reasonable” might not apply. 

Clint took a long, hot shower, careful of his wound. The shower was heavenly. He found the water pressure was set to his preference and all of the soaps and shampoos either carried a fresh scent or were unscented, essential for covert operations. Once he finally felt warm all the way though, he hobbled over to the mirror and took a good long look at himself.

The face staring back at him was familiar, if slightly older than he’d expected. Until now, Clint hadn’t had any time to take inventory of himself. He thought he had a lot more scars than any reasonable person should have, even though he was sure that his life was a physically demanding and dangerous one. He could identify the cause of some of them, knife wounds and bullet wounds. What was the most puzzling was the tattoo he discovered in the shower. It looked like two circles, intertwined, with an arrow through them. Something niggled in his memory, his instincts screamed that any tattoo would be important. He ran his fingers over the ink, tracing the loops over his heart. What had been so important to him that he wanted to be sure that his skin reminded him of it? What the hell was wrong with his brain? He wondered if some sleep, some dreaming, might help. 

\----  
Phil had slipped into his pajamas before slipping into the sheets. “JARVIS, please show me Clint on the screen.”

“Agent Coulson, Master Clint is currently in the bathroom.”

Coulson mulled over whether he should turn on the private feed to their room. “No one revoked my access, correct?” Phil felt JARVIS’ disapproval in the silence, but the TV flickered on to show Phil’s familiar bathroom, Clint’s muscular outline behind the steamy glass shower door. The camera JARVIS was using is behind the mirror. Clint and Phil had spent a lot of time making sure they knew where all the cameras were in the rooms before they had agreed to move in. 

Phil got comfortable in the bed, laying so he could watch the screen. He had almost drifted off to sleep when Clint finally got out of the shower. Just looking at Clint, wet and fresh from the shower, water dripping down his exquisitely sculpted chest was enough to stir Phil’s lust for his husband. He watched as Clint looked at himself in the mirror, and Phil felt his heart clench as Clint trace the wedding tattoo he got a few weeks after their marriage. Phil wore his wedding ring every day, but SHIELD regulations prevented Clint from wearing his in the field. The tattoo was Clint’s idea, he’d said it was something to keep Phil close to his heart, to show anyone that saw it that they belonged to each other. 

The look in Clint’s eyes as he traced the tattoo only brought home what Phil knew was true. Phil’s actions had been motivated by fear. Clint seemed so much less confident, so fragile and even younger than usual since he woke up in the hospital yesterday. Phil was terrified that Clint was going to reject him and the incident tonight had only served to shake Phil further. 

Having come to terms with this realization, Phil took a deep breath. He was so thankful that Clint was alive, was healthy, but he knew that wasn’t enough. He could not pretend to live a life without his husband. He had to come clean to Clint about their relationship, and the sooner the better. Nothing Clint had said or done made it okay for Phil to lie to him, even by omission. Phil suspected, especially in light of Natasha and Steve’s response to the situation, that “his Clint” would slap him upside the head for the way Phil was handling all of this. After all, it had been Clint who flirted with Phil from the very start. 

Coulson sighed in surrender. He sat up and grabbed his laptop to fire off one last e-mail. An e-mail he hadn’t wanted to send, but knew it was necessary. He closed the laptop with finality, and Phil watched until Clint climbed into bed, and then finally gave himself over to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Clint had never felt so content, so safe and so happy in his memories. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close. His back was pressed against another warm body, and Clint could feel a hard length nudging gently against his lower back and ass. Inhaling the soft scent of Old Spice as a warm breath huffed behind his ear, and soft lips pressed against the back of his neck. A strong, capable hand reaching around to Clint’s front, grasping at Clint’s already rigid cock, stroking in just the right pattern to bring Clint to the edge. 

Clint woke suddenly, his own hand resting lightly against his straining cock, the memory of the dream strong. Waking up alone had left him temporarily bereft, but as he found himself remembering the details, his stomach flipped over, ruining the peace that had been temporarily his. He tried to tell himself he was dreaming of masculine hands because his subconscious had felt his own hand on his cock.

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was just after 7AM. Suddenly Clint was starving. A craving for pancakes hit him, and he was fairly certain that remembered how to make his own special pancake mix. Clint headed to the bathroom and got himself dressed, his leg injury forgotten. Once he got into the kitchen, he found himself woefully understocked, but a smile lit his face as he remembered the communal kitchen from last night. He was momentarily distracted from Operation Pancake by a knock at the door.

“Come in?” Clint called.

“Breakfast. Come on.” Nat said from the doorway. She gave Clint a hard look, “And use the crutch.” She then turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the door open behind her. Clint shrugged his shoulders and followed.

“Sit.” She pointed at tall kitchen stool. Natasha was already gathering ingredients and equipment from various places around the kitchen for him.

“I do this often? How many people am I cooking for?” Clint didn’t ask how she knew he’d remember pancakes. His leg felt fine, but he sat anyway, he didn’t want to argue, he just wanted to eat.

“You like to cook when you are stressed. You always say it helps you think. Make around 20 pancakes, but you can make extra batter and leave it. It keeps well enough.” Natasha perched on the counter tops, looking down at her nails while Clint went to work. Soon he abandoned the stool, leaning against the countertop as he poured perfect circles of batter onto the griddle, munching on bacon that had been out when he arrived.

Natasha had been right, busying his hands had freed his mind. He was absorbed in all the missing pieces of his life, looking at the clues from the last 24 hours that showed what his life was now like, when he heard a clatter behind him. He spun around, and saw Coulson standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a cellphone on the floor in front of him.

“Clint?” Coulson’s voice held a note of something Clint couldn’t put his finger on. It felt like the Coulson he met yesterday wasn’t the one that had just spoken. Clint had this strange urge to say no, he wasn’t the “Clint” Coulson was asking for. He met Coulson’s eyes and wanted to reach out, to touch the older man.

\----

Phil was dressed and ready to go at 7:30 AM. He reviewed his schedule and was unsurprised that Dr. Fargo, SHIELD psychologist had set up an appointment with him, but it was an hour that Coulson had to squeeze into an already busy day. Phil desperately wanted to start the day with good coffee, and the room he’d spent the night in didn’t even have a coffee maker, so Phil headed upstairs.

In the doorway of the main kitchen, the unexpected smell of Clint’s signature pancakes stopped him in his tracks. Clint was standing at the griddle, his hip resting against the countertop, keeping the weight on his good leg. He was wearing a tight white shirt and blue SHIELD issue sweats, and he looked good enough to eat. He looked like Phil’s husband.

Phil didn’t remember dropping his phone, and he didn’t mean to ask, but he desperately wanted it to be his husband, whole, snarky, flirty, and loving in the kitchen. His own voice thundered in his ears as it betrayed him, questioning, “Clint?”

He could tell as soon as he met Clint’s eyes, that nothing had changed from the night before. The surge of hope left his body, deflating him like a balloon.

“Um, Good Morning?” Clint looked down at the ground fidgeting uncomfortably, and Coulson knew it was entirely his fault, that he’d already thrown Clint off balance.

“Barton, I’ll get us some coffee going. Are you making enough pancakes to share?” 

Clint nodded absently, and turned back to the stove.

“I already started a pot of coffee, you grab the cups.” Natasha said as she rolled her eyes at Coulson.

Phil grabbed three cups, making each cup exactly as his agents liked them. He handed one to Natasha, and then attempted to hand Clint his coffee around Clint’s expert pancake flipping.

“Oh thank god.” Clint took the cup carefully, avoiding brushing Phil’s hands. Phil watched as Clint wrapped both hands around the warm cup, and took a drink. Clint looked at Phil, his eyes were bright with glee, “Oh wow! This is really good!”

“That’s the way you always drink it.” Phil couldn’t help but offer a tiny smile. “May I?” Phil took some pancakes at Clint’s nod, sliding around Clint’s body, careful not to touch him. Coulson was trying to treat Clint the way he always attempted to treat Clint when they were in the SHIELD offices. No touching. Coulson took his plate and moved to the side of the kitchen, to eat and observe the Avengers in their natural habitat. 

Steve was the next one to wander in, his attire indicated he had just come from the gym. “Good Morning everyone.” Phil noted Steve took the time to make eye contact with all three of them before moving to the fridge. “Glad to see you up and making pancakes. How’s the memory thing coming?” 

“Better? Things seem more familiar anyway. I’ve had flashes of things from the time I’m missing. It’s the weirdest thing. I mean, I bit into a strawberry Tasha had set out for the pancakes. And suddenly I remembered having breakfast with Nat at this diner in Texas. We ate strawberries with our waffles. Nat was smiling and laughing, I remember thinking how rare that was, how beautiful it made her. Then people were shooting at us, I don’t remember who was shooting, or why. Mostly I remember being happy, enjoying the food, the company, and that I was extra upset that I didn’t get to finish my waffles.” Clint shrugged his shoulders. Coulson inhaled a sharp breath at this revelation, hope sprung painfully in his chest for the second time this morning. 

“See, you’ll be back to normal in no time.” Steve clapped a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “Plenty of food? Did you make enough for all of us?” 

“Yes? I think? Don’t I always?” Clint glanced at Natasha for confirmation, and she nodded. Steve was working on getting a plate when Darcy appeared in the kitchen. 

“Clint! My Hero! You’ve made breakfast! And there is COFFEE.” Darcy went forward to tackle hug Clint in her usual overtly enthusiastic fashion, and Phil stood to stop her, but Natasha managed to get between them first.

“No. He’s injured. And cooking. You can restrain yourself from climbing him like a tree this morning.” Natasha’s voice was very firm, but a smile danced in her eyes.

“Ugh. FINE. Spoilsport.” Darcy did hug Clint, who reacted by looking rather happy and smug at the physical contact. “I’m gonna grab pancakes for me and Bruce. I wouldn’t expect to see Thor and Jane for a while, based on the enthusiastic moaning coming from their rooms.”

“TMI Darcy.” Stark walked into the room, looking business ready. “OOH! Pancakes! Clint! You remembered the best part of everything, how to make pancakes. Pepper! Can we stay? And eat? No one told me there would be pancakes!”

“No Tony.” Pepper trailed in behind Tony, all business and efficiency, something Phil had to admit he found highly attractive. She offered Phil a smile before looking around the room. “Clint, can we get two to go?” 

“Sure thing Pep!” Clint reached overhead on instinct, grabbing some sheets of tinfoil. He put a large pancake on each sheet, and drizzled exactly the correct amount of maple syrup on each pancake. He then grabbed the can of whip cream and sprayed it into the center, like a burrito, before rolling it up in the foil. 

“Perfect! You totally are my favorite. Pancakes. To Go. Marry me?” Tony gushed as he took one from Clint. On a normal morning, Phil would have responded to Tony’s comment, just to remind him of his prior claim. Tony flicked his eyes to Clint, then to Steve. Tony shrugged and gave Steve a peck on the lips. Steve made a noise and pulled Tony back for a more thorough kiss. Coffee in one hand, pancake in the other, Tony was off to the elevators. Pepper dropped a quick kiss on Steve’s cheek, grabbed her pancake, and chased after Tony. Phil noticed Clint seemed to be interacting easily with Steve despite him making out with Tony at the kitchen table. 

 

Phil looked over at Natasha, and made a small hand gesture that, indicated he wanted Clint off his bad leg. He could tell the injury wasn’t really bothering Clint this morning, but everyone had food, and it would best if Clint sat and ate. Natasha glared back at Phil, her return gesture very much a “make him sit yourself.”

“Barton. Sit. Eat. I’m needed in the office.” Coulson used the voice he mostly reserved for new Agents on their first Op. He was relieved to see Clint reacting the way he usually did when ordered around by Phil. He smirked, but he sat. 

As they all finished breakfast, Coulson stood back and watched Steve, Natasha, and Clint banter for a while. 

“Barton, can you be ready in 10? I’d like to get into the office, and since we’re all up, heading in now would be helpful.”

“Yes sir. I’m ready now.” Barton stood, not bothering with the crutch. He seemed to be walking fine on his injured leg, but Coulson knew the wound was bad enough that Clint should be on crutches for at least a few more days, if not longer.

“Crutch.”

“But I really don’t need it. It feels fine.”

“Crutch.” 

“Yes sir.” Barton sighed, picked up the crutch, and hobbled after Coulson. 

\-----

They rode the elevator in silence, and Coulson pushed the button on the keyfob as soon as they stepped out. The lights of a SHIELD issue black sedan blinked helpfully, letting Clint pick the car out of the others parked in the garage. 

It was only after they climbed into the car that Clint spoke. “So what’s missing?”

“Your memories?” Coulson started the car and pulled out, keeping his eyes forward.

“Well, yes. But I get the feeling you and I talk more, normally. And my apartment? Rooms? Whatever it’s called, it felt empty. Incomplete somehow. I’m missing something important, and I’m not sure what it is. Did someone die? Maybe recently?” 

Phil Coulson loved Clint for more than just his body. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Clint knew something was up.

“No one died. I promise to talk to you in more detail after your appointments at SHIELD today.” Phil attempted to gather his resolve. “Perhaps we can catch dinner on the way back to the tower? I know a few places you love to eat at.” 

Clint didn’t respond, looking out the window as they drove away from the tower, towards the Government buildings on the outskirts of New York that held the local SHIELD offices. Coulson allowed his thoughts to wander, until something particular crossed his mind.

“Barton, how is your leg?”

“Fine sir, like I said earlier. I can barely feel it.”

“I know you don’t remember, but we have an agreement about you and medical issues. When I ask about your physical health, you need to be honest. Its the only way I can make informed decisions while you are in the field. So I’ll ask again, how is your leg Agent Barton?” Coulson watched Clint closely, his hands were still, steady, no telltale flick of his fingers to indicate he was lying to Phil. Clint didn’t have tells in the field, but he usually had tells when they were alone like this. 

“I’m being honest. Barely noticed it this morning. I’ve been staying off of it to keep you and Nat from harassing me, not due to any discomfort.“ Clint paused, his forehead crinkling with concentration. “Are we being followed?”

“Yes,” This time Coulson did smile, just a little. 

“It’s the black SUV, three cars back, one lane over?” 

“Yes.” Trust Hawkeye to spot the tail, memory or no. “It’s been following us since we left the tower. I was only sure of it the past few miles. I’m going to call it in, but if your leg is okay, we can handle it ourselves, most likely. No reason to call out the Avengers for one black SUV. There is a case with a bow and some arrows in the back seat, or you can take one of the guns out of the center console. After that I need you to tell me what you see.”

“Yes Sir!” Clint grinned. Coulson entered the code by touch on the center console, popping it open. He then slid his earpiece in and contacted SHIELD, speaking in code for a few minutes. Clint, had predictably, grabbed the bow case, opened the sunroof, and had already set up.

“Sir, there is a driver and a passenger in the front seat, I’d guess two or three in the back as well. Driver has dark hair, wearing sunglasses.” 

Coulson included Clint’s information in his report, then spoke to Clint, “The SHIELD office we are on our way to is a secure government facility, clearly labeled. Best case, they tail us too close to the office and SHIELD will pick them up. SHIELD will monitor the situation. Can’t turn out worse than Denmark.”

“Sorry Sir, don’t remember that one yet.” Clint responded. Both of them were tracking the movements of the black SUV.

“Have you...” Phil paused for a moment, then decided to just ask, “So what do you remember about me? “

“Not really anything yet. I know I trust you, but I can’t tell if that’s just gut instinct or Nat’s talk or what. And I know I trust Nat. I remember a few things about her now, a couple of moments. We spent a good hour together this morning, and it felt like talking to her shook some things loose. I also feel like everyone is keeping something from me.” Clint glanced at Phil, “Our friends are closing on us.”

“I see it. Any signs of weapons?” Coulson knew that if the people following them were going to make a move, the best spot for it would be about a mile down the road. Traffic in that area was lighter, and the vehicle was gaining on them.

“Yes sir. I think this is about to escalate.” Clint sounded sure, so Coulson tapped the SHIELD ear piece and asked for the backup.

“Barton, you are authorized to return fire. I will be very upset if you get yourself shot. Take out the tires. Alive for questioning might be a good idea”

“I wanna be startin’ something, sir.”

“No starting. RETURN fire.” Coulson paused, “Wait, were you just using a Michael Jackson reference?” 

“Hey, I’m missing around 15 years of pop culture. I’ll do better next time.”

Coulson was forced to become totally focused on his driving, as another black SUV joined the first, and a third one swung out in front of them. Clint popped up out of the sunroof, and both of the SUVs following them took an explosive arrow to the tires.

“So apparently you know how to work the quiver.” Coulson observed as Clint ducked back into the car. In the rearview mirror, Coulson saw both SUVs crash spectacularly as the arrows detonated. The back of the SUV in front of them opened fire as well. The advantage of SHIELD issue cars was the bullet resistant glass. 

“Muscle memory? Also, I just blew up their friends and they still open fire? Ugh. Ready to dodge the explosion in front of us?” Clint said as he popped back up, a few arrows to the other SUV. Clint didn’t wait for a response, and Coulson smoothly maneuvered around the last SUV when it had its own explosive arrow-related crash. 

“Too easy.” Clint quipped. “Is my life always like this?”

“Only on the good days. Back up is here. They’ll round them up.” Coulson pulled them off to the side of the road as official SHIELD vehicles arrived on scene. 

\-----

The aftermath of the car chase was rather boring, except for the parts where Clint found himself watching Agent Coulson. Coulson had been all efficiency in action and Clint admired the way Coulson dealt with the other SHIELD agents, the prisoners, and even how quickly he set up a temporary office. 

After about twenty minutes, things had calmed down. Clint felt a hand on his arm and looked up to find Coulson next to him. Coulson’s eyes had gone soft. It was like watching a mask slip a little. Coulson had leaned in a bit closer and told Clint, “Good job today. I have to stay here a bit longer. I got you a ride back to base with Sitwell’s crew. Report to medical as soon as you get in, I’ve been watching you use that leg. I’ll have Natasha meet you there.” 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Clint grunted. He worked to stand his ground, ignoring the warring instincts inside him, one telling him to jerk away, the other wanting him to lean in closer. 

“I know you don’t, but it would make me feel better to know you had someone to guide you around until your memory returns, or at least until you’ve had a few days to re-learn the ropes. I don’t think SHIELD can handle you attempting to test all the boundaries again.”

“Look, I’m not sure of the procedure, but I want to be on active duty. I want to be useful. My instincts let me handle the fight and even the complexities of the quiver. I don’t want to be babied or held back. I can pull my own weight.” Clint was confident in his abilities and the adrenaline rush had been great, but the feeling of rightness as he and Coulson worked together in the field had been overwhelming. He wanted that again, and soon. 

“I know.” Coulson gave Clint’s arm a reassuring squeeze. Clint had a sudden flash of Coulson squeezing his shoulder before, somewhere in the jungle. Clint had been in pain, and there was more, he knew there was more to the memory. It was gone though, slipping through his mind, and Coulson was still talking in the present, “Step one is getting cleared by medical, and step two is getting cleared by psych. Go. I’ll see you for dinner, if you don’t appear in my office before then.” Coulson then waved at Sitwell, and gave Clint a gentle push in that general direction. Clint sighed and went willingly.


	5. Chapter 5

The ride to SHIELD was very short. Clint was in the back of a van with five other agents. He passed the time looking out the window, deep in his thoughts. Clint found Nat very attractive, but he had been trying very hard to ignore the fact that Nat wasn’t the only one he felt that way about. While he was in the circus, Clint had wanted to join the army, and the army didn’t take fags. Being attracted to men wasn’t normal. He had been telling himself that he wasn’t going to be like that. He was attracted to women, there was no reason to admit to anyone that he also found men attractive, was there? He couldn’t have back then but what about now? At this point in time, it certainly didn’t seem like his team would judge him for it. Clint suddenly wasn’t even sure why he was making such an issue of this in his head. And it wasn’t like he needed to think about joining the army anymore. It seemed to him that the life he had lived in the time between where his memory dropped off and where he woke again may have been hard on him, but that he was in a good place now. He knew he had a purpose, he was on an amazing team of Superheroes, and Nat was his best friend. Coulson was his boss, but also his friend.

Once on site, Clint immediately headed off towards medical. He had managed to leave the crutch back in Coulson’s car, and was slightly proud of that fact. When he arrived, fifteen minutes late, Dr. Parrish was livid. 

“Where is your crutch Agent Barton? I know you have problems following my instructions, but all I asked was for you to use a crutch for less than 24 hours, to wrap the bandage with plastic if you were going to shower, and to not touch the bandage or wound until you got back to me today. And yet, here you are! No Crutch!” Dr Parrish sighed, “Well, so apparently memory loss hasn’t changed your ability to ignore to medical orders. Strip, paper gown, I’ll be back in two minutes. And stay out of my air ducts.” Dr. Parrish turned and walked out of the exam room. Her parting shot about the air ducts had Clint looking for a way up to them as he stripped down. Once he was wearing the stupid paper gown, he pulled over a chair and began fiddling with the cover on the air duct. He wasn’t sure he could fit through this entry point, but it looked like the duct work was big enough he could crawl through it, if he could find a way in. He heard the door open behind him, and saw in the mirror over the sink that the doctor re-entered the room. He put both hands into the air duct and started to slowly pull himself up.

“And now you’re showing me your ass. Get off your leg, out of my ducts, and onto the table! You shouldn’t even be able to put weight on that leg, did you hop up there on one foot?” 

Clint jumped backward off the chair and landed with no bounce, both feet bearing equal weight. “Feels fine Doc.” Clint felt an unrepentant grin spread across his face. He’d realized that he had smiled more in the past twenty four hours, than he remembered smiling during a week at the circus. He jumped up onto the table, and presented his bandaged leg. The doctor unwrapped his wound while Clint was still musing over the air ducts. 

“This isn’t possible.” The doctor sounded very upset. “I treated you yesterday. I wrapped your leg myself. Is this some sort of joke of yours? How did you do this?” Clint looked down and saw nothing more a smear of dried blood where the bullet hole had been yesterday. 

“That’s weird, right? I mean, I knew it felt fine, but I figured the painkillers were just awesome or something.” Clint reached to poke at his leg, but Dr. Parrish waved his hand away. 

“Did you even take the painkillers?” The doctor grabbed an alcohol wipe and cleaned up the dried blood. There was a bright pink, fresh looking scar under it. 

“Um, not since I left medical.”

“When was the last time you remember it hurting?” Dr. Parrish kept poking at his leg. 

“Last night, around 7? I accidently put weight on it. It was a dull and throbbing pain for a little while after that.” 

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re going to be here for testing the rest of the day. Have Agent Romanov bring you something to keep you entertained. I’ll ask Dr. Fargo to come here for your Psych appointment. You aren’t leaving medical for a while.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Clint’s eyes flicked over to the air vent again. Yes, he could probably squeeze through there, but it would be very tight.

“And stay out of the air vents. I will call Agent Coulson and make him sit on you if you do not behave. This could be very important. We need to know what is going on.” The doctor shook her finger at him, like he was a misbehaving child.

Clint just sighed and brought out his Starkphone. 

\-----

The good news was that all of the people in the cars chasing them had survived. The bad news was that one of them was behaving oddly. Coulson was able to get some good intel out of the other prisoners relatively easily, get everything sorted at the scene and on his way back to SHIELD within the hour. 

Coulson was relieved to finally reach his office. He’d barely sat down in his chair when his phone rang. He sighed, as he saw that it was a call from Medical.

“Coulson here. Did he mess his leg up during the incident this morning or is this the standard, Barton’s escaped medical call?”

“Neither. This is Dr. Parrish. I wanted to ask if you’ve noticed any strange behavior from Agent Barton.”

“He lost his memory, I’m afraid I’m not going to be a good judge of odd. Nothing seemed more out of the ordinary than expected. You might ask Agent Romanov the same thing, she has spent more time with him than I have. Why?

“His leg is healed.” Dr. Parrish said evenly. 

“Good? We want his leg to be healing.” Coulson was getting annoyed.

“No Sir, you misunderstand. His leg is healed. There is a scar, fresh and new, but it is completely healed. Overnight. And not just his leg, all the cuts and bruises he had when he came into medical yesterday are also completely healed, most of them without a trace of having been there.” 

“Did we try something new on him? What would have caused that?” Coulson kept his voice calm, professional. 

“We’ve found some anomalies in his blood work that the head injury wouldn’t account for. We’re still working on it, but we suspect that he was injected with something during the fight, and that might be contributing to the amnesia. We just don’t know yet.”

Coulson’s blood ran cold. In the back of one of the damaged SUVs from this morning had been a medical case with shattered vials. He needed to be interrogating those perps now to find out if they were part of the group that attacked Clint yesterday on the roof. Could someone have been taking advantage of the Doom Bot attack to implement their own evil plan? “Find out what you can. Get Dr. Banner to look at it, too. I may have a lead on what he was injected with, I’m going to follow up now.”

“We’d like to keep him in medical for the rest of the day and overnight, for observation,” Dr. Parrish let out a huge sigh. “So we’ll probably need your help to keep him here.”

Coulson’s mind was already racing. He was instant messaging five people to set up interviews with the prisoners, had an email half composed to the evidence department to get samples of the strange yellow liquid rushed to the labs and results back to him ASAP. “I’m going to be very busy. Best advice, get Romanov to come help sit, and let someone take him to the range for an hour. Maybe a trip to the gym too. If you lock him in completely, you’ll lose him in the air ducts. Text me regularly to keep me updated.” Coulson hung up. He wasn’t avoiding Clint, really, he wasn’t. He needed to interrogate the prisoners. Personally.  
\-----

For Clint, it was a long morning of being poked and prodded. So far he’d had a CAT scan, MRI, countless blood draws, and some other tests with complex names. For the final act, they’d made some small cuts on his arm and then began monitoring them to see how they healed. Left to his own devices, Clint quickly got bored, and managed to get himself up in the air ducts when no one was looking. He crawled around for awhile, and found a stash of candy bars and water bottles. Eventually the medical staff was yelling into the air ducts. Something about how they had to check status on the cuts. Clint pretty much ignored them, settling into a familiar feeling spot above an empty office. 

Around noon, he heard Natasha telling him to get his ass down here to eat. He emerged from the air duct in the office to find her tipped back in a wooden chair with her feet propped up on the desk, digging in to a large chicken caesar salad on her lap. Not looking up, she pointed at the other containers on the desk. They ate in comfortable silence and after he was done, Nat dragged him back down to Medical where the staff all seemed disappointed that the cuts from this morning remained unchanged. Nat agreed to stay with him for a couple of hours, which was the only reason he hadn’t made a break for the air ducts again. Well, Nat and the fact that they’d moved him to a more secure room. 

To kill time, Tasha suggested they start with a game that they both apparently liked to play whenever they were bored. It was basically a physically challenging game of one-upmanship. Clint found himself doing hand stands, push ups, pull ups, and weird bendy things, trying to out do Nat and her very flexible body. A small crowd had slowly gathered outside Clint’s room to clap at each new feat. Nat laughed at Clint doing a handstand, supported by three fingers, balancing a chair on his feet and called the game. After the medical staff dispersed Nat grabbed one of the computer tablets and hopped up onto the hospital bed. She gestured for Clint to join her. He sighed dramatically but climbed up next to her, enjoying the way Nat curled her body around his, placing the tablet in front of them so they could both use it.

“Let me show you some of the games you like to play.” She smiled wickedly, then turned on the tablet. He was surprised to discover that if she told him the name of the app, he could play it without direction. It was like the quiver, he didn’t think about it, he just knew how to do it. Her proximity to him was bringing back some very pleasant memories of them cuddling in the past. At one point she leaned in close, and the memory of their bodies locked together in passion flashed brightly in his mind, sending a shiver down his body. His breath suddenly came in hard gasps and his cock springing to life without any physical stimulation. Instinctively, his hands tightened around her, and Clint tipped his head back, lips seeking Natasha’s. At the light touch of her soft lips on his, Clint moved in to deepen the kiss, only to find himself suddenly flipped onto his stomach, the hard edge of the tablet pressing into his side. Tasha had pinned him down, holding one arm behind his back. 

“What the fuck, Clint?” Natasha sounded pissed, and Clint had to admit, it was both scary and weirdly hot. “We went over this. You and me, we don’t fuck anymore.”

“I’m so sorry Nat. I know. I swear. I just.” Clint paused and felt his face flush. Tasha jumped backwards off the bed, leaving Clint alone in it. He looked up at her, eyes pleading, “You see, sometimes, well, a few times so far today, anyway, memories just sort of hit me, like a flashback? You know? And you were so close to me and suddenly it was like I was there! Well, we were there, in bed, together. That’s all I remember. But it was physical and real and I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” He watched as the anger faded from her face. “I think I’ll get us a snack. Try not to do it again, okay?” Nat turned on her heels, leaving Clint alone again.


	6. Chapter 6

Coulson watched through the one-way glass as the the oddly behaved prisoner from today’s car chase, presumably other victim of the mystery yellow liquid, followed directions like a puppy dog. Meanwhile, the computer screen to his left showed the interview of another perp from this morning. A transcript of an earlier interview with a different perp was pulled up on Phil’s laptop, and he was attempting to get all the relevant information he could to report out to Fury. He needed to know what could happen to Clint, and how to stop it. Phil’s multitasking was interrupted when the door to the observation room opened, and Dr. Fargo entered the room.

“I’m very busy Dana. Can we keep this short?” Coulson asked after glancing at her.

“I know you’re busy Phil. Possibly busy being an ass. One of the things I love about our sessions is how you always managed to cut to the chase and leave me lots of time to do other things. You’re usually easy. Except not this time. No, this time, you get to have me cut to the chase. You moved out of your bedroom and left your amnesiac husband alone because you decided he was homophobic?”

Coulson looked up sharply at her. “He woke up, reacted poorly to my presence, and called me a fucking faggot. He practically had a panic attack when Stark and Rogers were affectionate in front of him. Medical told me not to stress him out. At the time, I followed what seemed likely to keep his stress levels low.”

“Phil, I need to be helping Clint get his memory back, not dealing with your fear of rejection. I read your emailed report from last night. Thank you for that, by the way. I know you don’t like sharing information about him, or about your relationship, but I do need to know what is going on if I’m going to help. But let’s say he suddenly wakes up and remembers your relationship, how is he going to react knowing you’ve pulled away? Or what if remembers just a pieces of your relationship, and draws the wrong conclusions? You’re only making this worse on him, and you’re purposely torturing yourself.”

“We have very strict rules about our relationship, including what we say and how we talk about it. SHIELD is not the place for that discussion.” Coulson replied.

“Which was part of why I cleared Clint to go home with you last night. Honestly, I expected better of you! And no, I’m not going to go tell him you are married. That’s something that he needs to hear from you.”

“I know.” Coulson looked at Dr. Fargo and sighed. “I sort of realized that myself. Right now I have to complete this work, it may be key in what is going on with Clint. I’ll talk to him at dinner, try to tell him then.” 

Coulson’s cell phone buzzed and he picked it up to check the screen. He’d told medical to e-mail him updates and text him every single time Clint escaped, and they had. He had ignored the escape report. It was the text from Natasha that gave him heartburn. Well, more like heartache, if he was being honest with himself. The text read, “If your husband tries to stick his tongue down my throat again, I may just take him up on it. The sex was always good between us. One more time for old times sake could be fun.” Coulson knew she was joking, that it was just her way of telling him to get his head out of his ass and to get down to medical. 

“Do I want to know?” Dr. Fargo asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so annoyed at a text message.” 

“Just go to medical and talk to my husband. See if you can help him get his memory back. Tell him I’ll see him at dinner. I have to meet with Fury soon to debrief.” Coulson said. He watched Dr Fargo sigh, throw her hands in the air, and storm out of the room. As soon as the door clicked behind her, Coulson put his head on the table and struggled to control himself. He will not cry in the office. He is Agent Phillip J. Coulson, and he does not cry. Even on a day like today, when it was starting to look like Clint’s memory loss might be the tip of the iceberg.

\----

Clint was alone with the tablet for about twenty minutes. He used that time to try and not think about anything at all. He was absolutely certain that he loved Tasha, and from the flashback, he’d say they rocked in bed together. Why weren’t they still together? Had they broken up recently? Was that what was missing from his rooms? Frustrated, Clint tossed another bird at the stupid pigs on the tablet. 

When the door opened again, he was disappointed to see two physicians, a nurse, and a woman in suit who he hadn’t met before. This day so needed to be over. The physicians swarmed him, looking at the cuts. The nurse prepared to take even more blood.

“Do I even have any blood left for you to take?” He grumbled as he put out his arm. 

“They haven’t even taken as much as a normal person donates. You’re fine Agent Barton.” The suit replied. “I’m Dr. Fargo, from Psych. You’re not terribly fond of our standard once a month get togethers, but we’ve got a system worked out. We’re going to work through some things together as soon as the medical staff are done. I’ve been asked to start standard amnesia recovery with you.” 

Clint nodded absently, he was hoping the psychologist could help him fill in some of the holes in his life. The medical people were busy being disappointed about his cuts looking the same as they had this morning. Dr. Fargo took a seat in the empty chair.

“So I guess I don’t need to say nice to meet you this time?” Clint asked. 

“Nope.” Dr. Fargo smiled at him. She made a gesture at the medical people, and they packed up their vampire equipment and left him alone with her. “So, Clint, how are you feeling?”

“How do you think I am feeling Doc?” Clint’s temper flared. “ I’m pretty sure I just pissed off my best friend by putting the moves on her on accident. I’m missing huge parts of my fucking life!” Clint took a deep calming breath. “I have the weirdest form of amnesia ever. I can remember pretty much normally up until around the time everything went bad at the circus but I can’t remember specifically why or how. I don’t remember anyone showing me how to use a Starkphone so there should be gap with me using all of Tony’s toys, but this stuff doesn’t seem weird, and I just know what to do. None of my physical skills are gone. I know I’m missing some big things though, I feel like someone just moved out of my life, or died, or something. I’m starting to wonder if Tasha is my ex-wife and just not telling me. And now Medical wants to keep me here because I’m not injured! This day sucks.”

Dr. Fargo smiled kindly at Clint. “Well, I can tell you that there have been some leads about what is going on with you, and that Phil will be by later to brief you. I don’t have all the details yet myself. I can also assure you that Natasha and you were never married, and while you did date, that was over more than six years ago.”

“Which one is Phil?” Clint was trying to remember.

“What? Phil. Phil Coulson. He didn’t even tell you his first name?” Dr. Fargo looked horrified. 

“I don’t know your first name either.” Clint grumbled at her. To his surprise, this made her laugh.

“I’m going to kill Phil myself someday. I’m Dana. You usually just call me Doc. The bugs bunny jokes are endless.” She rolled her eyes. “ Are you aware that the two most important people in your life are Natasha and Phil? Followed closely by the rest of the Avengers, of course.” 

“I know Nat is. Things with Coulson are weird. I’m not sure what is going on there.” Clint replied.

“Are you aware of what you said to Phil when you first awoke?” Doc leaned forward, looking very interested. Clint thought back to those first confusing moments when he woken up. Had Coulson been touching him? Suddenly Clint remembered the edge of the dream he had right before he regained consciousness, Barney had been kicking him, hitting him in the stomach and leg and calling him a disgusting faggot. A soft touch had yanked him back to the present, and he had woke, so many years older and no idea where he was. And a man had been leaning in close. Thinking back, focusing, he could remember the feel of Phil’s lips on his forehead.

“Oh Fuck Me.” Clint swore, missing pieces slipping into place. “But I’m not a fag, am I?” He looked at Doc, eyes searching for confirmation. “I mean, I’ve slept with Tasha, and I remember it. I totally enjoyed that.”

“You remember having sex with Natasha?” Doc looked surprised by this.

“Yes. I’ve been having flashes of things.” 

“Describe the flashes, what triggers them? How often?” Doc asked.

“Just a few. Eating strawberries, cuddling with Nat, a flash when Coulson squeezed my arm. For a second, it’s like I’m there, in the memory, I can feel it. But it’s a flash. It’s just a second. And then it’s gone. It’s very frustrating. And embarrassing, at least with Tasha, earlier.” 

“Was it the taste or the texture of the strawberries that triggered the memory?” 

“I don’t know! Fuck.” Clint ran his hands through his hair as his frustration mounted. “Who gives a fuck about the strawberries! Can we get back to the fact that I now suspect I’m somehow a fag and I’m fucking my boss?”

“Sexual orientation isn’t a choice, and it’s a sliding scale.” Doc sat back, her voice sounded like she was giving a lecture. “We often use the Kinsey scale, AKA the Heterosexual-Homosexual Rating Scale. A zero would be someone who is completely hetrosexual. Completely straight. A six would be someone who is completely gay. Prior to your memory loss, based on conversations, life choices, and other variables, I’d have said you were a pretty solid three.” 

“Which means?” 

“You self identified as bisexual. You are sexually attracted to both men and women. And have had relationships in the past with members of each gender.”

“Fuck. And I was okay with this? People know about this? Is this even okay with SHIELD?” Clint focused his eyes on the door, wondering how much trouble he’d be in if he just got up and walked out. He needed time to think about this. He needed to go the range and shoot something. 

“Gay marriage is legal in New York. SHIELD’s fraternization policy only comes into play if there are justifiable complaints that a relationship is negatively impacting your work. SHIELD doesn’t care who you sleep with.” Dr. Fargo’s gaze was steady on Clint. 

“I need to go. Can I go?” Clint’s eyes were pleading as he met Doc’s.

“Where?” 

“The range? I need....” Clint threw his hands up helplessly. 

“I am authorized to escort you to the range. I’ll have to stay with you, okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Can we just go?”

\-----

The shooting range was helpful, even though he was only cleared for an hour. Doc sat back with her tablet, only half watching him. Clint was not doing anything too difficult, and he wasn't allowing his mind to totally zone out. After the first dozen or so arrows flew, he started to work through the facts. He had woken up knowing he was attracted to men. He had, for some reason, had that terrible fight with his big brother fresh in his mind when he woke. Being bisexual wasn’t going to cost him his job, or hurt him in any way. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Love is love, right? 

Maybe he was coming at this from the wrong side of things. Coulson was supposedly who he was in a relationship with. Were they married? Clint supposed that there was some likelihood of that. It sounded right. Did Coulson move out just because Clint reacted badly when he woke? Was that the right move? It seemed a little dick-ish, honestly. He needed to stop thinking of him as Coulson and start thinking of him as Phil. Had he even seen Phil? Other than that moment when he first woke up? 

Yes. He’d seen him at breakfast, when he came out, asking for Clint. And again when Phil squeezed his arm, after the car chase. Now that Clint was willing to consider it, he did have to admit that Coulson had been pretty hot too, both before and after the car chase. How long had he been with Phil? It didn’t feel new to him. It felt like they’d been together for a while. 

“Are you ready to talk some more?” Doc called from her seat as Clint’s firing rate slowed.

“So I’m bisexual?” Clint asked, looking for outside confirmation.

“Why don’t you tell me.”

Clint searched his mind again. He found men attractive. And women. He found attractive people attractive. And not just physically attractive, but whole person attractive. “I’m bisexual. It’s the person, not the gender for me.” Clint stated confidently. “Is that rare?”

“On the Avengers, both you and Tony Stark identify that way. Coulson, despite having an ex-wife, considers himself gay. Natasha considers herself mostly straight. I haven’t spent any time with the others, so I can’t tell you where they fall but I am sure they would share that with you if you asked. None of this is a secret, well, a secret from you anyway.” Dr. Fargo glanced at the clock. “We’re going to have to go back soon.” 

“I guess we can head back to medical.” Clint shrugged.

“I want to talk to you about the memories you’ve had return. The good news is the fact that you are getting some flashes suggests that your memory is still in your head, hopefully intact and recoverable. It sounds like touch might be what you need to jog your memory. Taking time to use your senses to really feel things may be the the best therapy for you. The second method is to try and force things. Basically take yourself back to a point you remember, whether it’s eating strawberries or the last thing you remember from the circus. Concentrate on that moment, and think about what happened next. See if you can pull the memories forward. Once we get back to medical, we can try that method together before I head off to my next appointment.”

On the way back to medical, Clint traded a couple of texts with Nat, just to confirm a few things. He wanted to make sure he played this the right way. By the time the doctors came in for yet another blood draw, Clint was whistling the theme to Disney’s Robin Hood with a mischievous glint in his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Coulson was usually the first one to arrive for a briefing, but when he entered the room, Natasha, Fury, Captain America, and Bruce were already waiting. Coulson didn’t bother to sit down, he just set his materials on the table and started the briefing.

“So here is what we know. Yesterday afternoon, during an attack by Dr. Doom, a small group of ex-AIM members snuck onto the roof where Hawkeye was stationed and attacked him. They used a device to temporarily scramble all the electronics in the nearby area, so we do not have confirmation as to exactly what occurred. Hawkeye was away from the rest of the team, alone on the roof. Based on available intel, we can theorize that, prior to being shot in the leg, Hawkeye was injected with an experimental drug. He then either fell or jumped from the roof, hitting his head at some point on the way down. He was caught by The Hulk, and was unconscious by the time he was brought in. He awoke roughly four hours later remembering nothing beyond his time in the circus. All of his physical skills seem to be intact, and he has basic understanding of how to use technology and equipment.” Coulson looked around the table, making eye contact with Natasha.

“This morning, while Agent Barton and I were on our way into SHIELD, we were attacked by individuals from the same ex-AIM group. Agent Barton managed to disable the vehicles pursuing us, and SHIELD agents were able to take a dozen people into custody. Eleven of the men work for someone they call ‘HeadCase’ who apparently came up with the formula. The twelfth man, named Jack Carter, was the first victim of the same drug that was given to Hawkeye. The drug seems to have been designed to turn its victims into mindless, obedient soldiers. Mr. Carter understands how to follow complex commands and will follow them regardless of the individual asking. He does not seem to retain any personal memory or give any indication that his thoughts or actions are of his own free will.” Coulson summoned up one of the videos of Jack Carter and let it play on the screen in the room.

Carter was standing in a SHIELD training room, and was told to complete the obstacle course in front of him. He worked his way through it, no emotion or reaction showing on his face. He moved fluidly, but there was something mechanical about it too. It was unnerving to watch. But not as unnerving as when Mr. Carter jumped down from climbing over the rope wall, and landed badly on his ankle. A cracking noise was just barely audible on the video. Mr. Carter showed no sign of pain, simply tried to keep moving forward. There was a horrifying few seconds of Carter attempting to continue before someone had the presence of mind to tell him to stop. The video screen went dark. A shiver went down Phil’s spine as he thought about how that could have been Clint. How it might still become Clint. He forced himself to focus, to continue the briefing.

“After the incident this morning, Mr. Carter was taken to medical, where his injury was treated and he was told to sleep. Once he entered REM sleep, his healing accelerated significantly. The doctors are monitoring it, but they suspect, given around 8-10 hours of REM sleep, his shattered ankle will be completely repaired. Mr. Carter was chosen at random by the perpetrators, he was nearby on their way to attempt to use the drug on an Avenger and was of similar size and weight as Agent Barton. It is currently not known why Agent Barton and Mr. Carter reacted so differently to the drug. Agent Barton has also experienced the uptick in healing during REM sleep, all wounds acquired yesterday are healed. The experimental cuts on his arm are healing normally at this time, but the doctors want to monitor him overnight and see if they heal when he enters REM sleep.” Coulson has to bite back a little anger at this, after evaluating Mr. Carter’s recovery, one of the doctors had actually asked for permission to give Clint a much more significant wound in the name of science. It was only Coulson’s iron will that kept him from punching the doctor in the face. No one gets to shoot Clint but Phil, after all. 

“A small sample of the drug was located in the car crash this morning, apparently they wanted to give Agent Barton a higher dose to see if they could get similar results as they did with Carter. The perpetrators were unable to provide much in the way of details on the composition of the drug. Our best scientists are currently working on it. The good news is that Agent Barton has had a few memories return, but is unknown whether both he and Mr. Carter will make a complete recovery at this time.” Coulson sat down heavily at the table. “We’re working to locate the base of ‘HeadCase,’ and determine the threat level.” 

“How much does Clint know about the other victim?” Banner asked.

“As far as I know, he has not been informed. We all know how paranoid Agent Barton has been about mind control since the Loki incident.” Coulson couldn’t help but rub the scar that runs across his chest from his encounter with Loki. 

“Is it possible that one of the anti-mind control methods he practiced or learned after Loki could have made the difference?” Steve asked.

“Unknown.” After Loki, while Phil had been enduring the long process of recovering from a wound that had left him dead for about ninety seconds, Clint had struggled to deal with the aftermath of what had happened to both of them. Natasha had pointed out that he wasn’t the first person, heck, not even the first team member, to have been mind controlled. This had sent Clint into a long search on how to prevent it, how to fight it when it occurred. Clint had even visited with telepaths and tried all sorts of crazy training to help him in the future. Coulson knew some of the methods had to be quackery, but who knew what would work, in the end. 

Bruce got up and began to explain the science behind the drug, but Coulson already knew that they didn’t know the long term effects yet. Phil’s phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, and he discovered a text message from Clint “I thought you said we were having dinner, it’s late, I’m starved. Medical told me not to leave. If you are too busy, I’ll text Nat, see if she can come keep me company.”

It was all suddenly just too much for Phil. Clint was asking to see him. The day had been long and horrible and all Phil wanted was to curl up with his husband. He stood up abruptly, “I’m sorry for the interruption, Dr. Banner. I’m going to go down to Medical and sit with Clint. I’ll have my computer with me and be available by phone. Please keep me apprised of any changes.”


	8. Chapter 8

Coulson stopped by the onsite SHIELD cafe to pick up food on his way to medical. It wasn’t ideal, but Clint was fond of the grilled cheese, and they had some chocolate cheesecake slices as well. As Phil walked down the hall in medical, he heard music playing, some recent pop song about dancing. The music grew louder, and Phil found himself standing outside of Clint’s room, looking in the observation window. Clint was wearing nothing but the SHIELD sweatpants from this morning, and he had a small blonde woman in his arms. The two of them were dancing close, her delicate, feminine hand was resting on Clint’s naked chest, her thumb on the tattoo over Clint’s heart. Both of them were smiling, and Clint suddenly laughed, his face turning from handsome to irresistible. Clint spun her into a dip, and Phil watched as the woman’s eyes went soft, and she moved in closer, like she might be considering kissing Clint. Phil opened the door loudly before he had time to think, and Clint’s head jerked up, his eyes focusing on Phil’s. 

“Hey! Agent! You brought food! Great!” Clint stated enthusiastically. He stood the woman up, and put an arm around her. “Have you met Jenny? She’s a nurse here. She’s new, and we’ve never met. It’s been nice to have a conversation with someone who doesn't know more about me than me.” 

“Hello Agent Coulson.” Jenny smiled up at him, holding out her hand to shake. Phil forced a bland smile onto his face and took her tiny hand. As soon as he let go, Jenny moved in closer to Clint again, her hand reached up for his chest, her body turning in towards Clint. Phil fought to contain his anger. 

“Nurse, do you have other patients to attend to?” Coulson snapped, bottled emotion bleeding through. 

“Oh! Yes, I should be going.” She looked up at Clint, her blue eyes going soft again, “We should do this again sometime.” 

“Of course. You know where to find me.” Clint smiled down at her as he walked her to the door. 

Coulson was setting up the small table in the room with their food, doing his best not to glare at Jenny as she left the room. Clint jumped over onto one of the chairs, put his feet on the seat and perched on the back rest.

“Grilled Cheese?” Clint asked curiously, then he took a bite, “Oh! Yes. You always seem to know what food to bring me. Do you have a list you keep hidden somewhere of all of your assets and their prefered food choices?”

“Just you. Well, and Natasha. So you looked like you were having fun with Jenny.” Coulson’s voice had a slight growl in it, and again he struggled to keep himself under control. Phil hadn’t honestly thought that Clint might fall for someone else while in Medical. All of Medical knew Clint and Phil were together, even if they didn’t know about their marriage specifically. Trust Clint to find the new person, the only person who doesn’t know Coulson had staked a claim. Her hands had been on Clint’s tattoo. On the mark that Clint put on his own body of his own volition to show the world that he was with Phil. The thought caused Phil’s hands to involuntarily squeeze into fists.

“She’s nice. They’re planning to try and make me stay in medical tonight. It’s boring here alone, and she only came on shift an hour ago. She’s my night nurse. I’m going to see if I can be demanding enough that she’ll leave the other patients for me.” Clint gave Phil a smile and a wink before looking back down at his food. 

“I’m staying.” Phil said before he could stop himself. Clint’s head snapped up, his eyes looked questioningly into Phil’s. Coulson reached deep inside himself for his self control.

“You’re staying? What, your plan is to hang out in this chair all night long? Medical does actually want me to sleep. They seem to think I’ll heal these if I do.” Clint gestured at the bandage on his left bicep. “Heck, Dr. Barlowe wanted to shoot me again to see how that healed while I slept. I’m half expecting him to ‘accidentally’ come at me with a knife. I mean, miraculously heal one wound and suddenly the doctors all want to experiment on me.” 

“You’ve made my argument for me. Obviously someone needs to keep watch in order to keep Dr. Barlowe at bay.” Coulson took a bite of his salad. His stomach was rebelling slightly as he forced himself to swallow. The stress of this whole situation was getting to him. Coulson was carefully keeping his eyes on his food, but he could feel the watchfulness of Hawkeye. Clint was silent for five solid minutes, probably stuffing his mouth with grilled cheese. 

“Alright then. I thought we were going to talk over dinner. If you aren’t feeling chatty, I can go see if Jenny will join me for dessert.” Clint didn’t get up though. Coulson looked up at him, and Clint chose that moment to slide one of his fingers into his mouth, sucking the last bit of cheese from his sandwich off his fingers. A low hum of approval came from Clint, like he was really enjoying the taste of cheddar. Phil’s cock twitched, and he glanced out the observation window, to see if maybe Nurse Jenny was watching. No one stood in the window. 

“I’m not sure where to start. I did see the report from Dr. Fargo, she said you’d had a few more memory flashes? Anything interesting?” Coulson stood as he talked, going to the observation window and pulling the privacy curtain, cutting off casual observers.

“I remember joining the Army. I don’t think that it ended well though. How long have I been in SHIELD?” 

“Ten years. I recruited you after you had served about two years in the army. Natasha joined you about two years after that.” Coulson didn’t say that Natasha and Clint had dated for two years or that about nine months after the break up, Phil and Clint had started having sex. 

“And you’ve been my boss for ten years?” 

“I brought you in, but I haven’t always been your direct Handler. You do work with others. But you have been my responsibility, yes. And Natasha as well, since she joined.” Coulson picked up his tablet and began setting all the privacy settings on the room. “There is dessert in the bag. Just give me a minute here.” They weren’t going to be able to leave SHIELD tonight, but he wanted as much privacy as possible for whatever happened next. He didn’t need a video floating around of Clint freaking out on him. 

“Dessert!” Clint pulled out the cheesecake and dug in. Coulson walked over to the door, and propped a chair under the handle. It should give them an extra minute or two if someone disabled the locks. Clint looked up and spoke around a mouthful of cake, “Are you locking us in, Sir? Are you planning to torture me or something?”

Coulson’s mouth twitched into another tiny smile. “Something like that. I’d like to see the wound, the scar, if you don’t mind.” He’d been wanting to do that all day. They have a tradition of sorts, when one of them gets a new scar. If Clint were himself, and had come home with this scar, Phil would stripped Clint down and kissed every inch of the scar to remind them both of how lucky they were to be alive, to be together. Phil wanted to see the freshly healed skin for himself, to reassure himself that Clint was okay. It wouldn’t hurt to have seen it himself for his next report out either, given the miraculous nature of the wound. Phil tried to convince himself he’s asking as Agent Coulson, but he knows that he’s asking as Clint’s husband.

“You want me to strip for you? Kinky. First you cockblock me with the naughty night nurse, and now this. Tell me, what kind of boss are you? Are you the annoying cockblocking boss? Or are you the type of boss who goes to the bar with me? Do we hang out and pick up pretty chicks together Agent Coulson? Are you a fun boss?” Clint set down his dessert, and the tip of his tongue came out to slowly lick the chocolate off his lips. There was a familiar gleam in Clint’s eye, displaying Clint’s confidence, his cockiness as he slid off his chair. 

“I’ve never stopped you from having sex with anyone.” Coulson let Clint move into his personal space. 

“Or does your wife make sure you’re always home for dinner?” Clint reached out very slowly towards Phil’s. Phil felt his breath hitch in his chest, as Clint touched the wedding ring on Phil’s left hand. Clint gasped, his eyes going wide, unfocused. A bright smile spread across his face, but the distant look in Clint’s eyes had Phil panicked. He was viscerally afraid that Clint was slipping into some sort of zombie state like the other victim had. 

“Clint!” Coulson grabbed both of Clint’s arms and gave Clint a little shake. 

“It’s okay. Sorry. I’m here.” Phil saw that Clint was slowly working to school his expression.

“What the hell was that?” Coulson demanded.

“Just memories. I’ve been remembering little bits all day. By the way, you shot me! I distinctly recall you shooting me.” 

“Clint, that was ten years ago.”

“Yeah, well, I just found out about it today.” Clint stuck his lower lip out in the most adorable pout Phil had seen in awhile. He desperately wanted to draw Clint in, to kiss the pout away. 

“What else do you remember?” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if Clint remembered them, their relationship, their life together. 

“Not too much else. So you want to see the scar? For your reports?” Clint pulled away. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and tossed a saucy smile at Phil. Then he very slowly pulled his pants down, revealing the standard boxer/briefs that Clint wore whenever he bothered with underwear. Phil doesn’t know if he should be relieved or not that Clint’s not going commando today. 

Clint hopped up on the table and turned his leg out. Coulson stepped up to stand between Clint’s legs. “May I?” He questioned, gesturing at Clint’s leg. Clint just nodded. Phil inspected the new pink skin, ran his fingers in a light caress over the latest scar on his lover’s body. Phil forced himself to step back, away from Clint. A bemused smile crossed Clint’s face.

“So? That it? Should I let you get back to your work?” Clint asked, making no move to get dressed.

“No, I told you, I’m going to stay with you tonight. If that’s okay,” Phil stepped even further back from Clint. 

“Agent Coulson, I didn’t know you cared. I mean, you’ve got so much work to do, I’m sure you must be very busy. I wouldn’t want to keep you away from all that work.” Clint hopped lightly off the table, advancing on Phil. 

“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. There really was a lot going on today. We’ve had some very important leads on what happened to you, what caused all of this.” Phil didn’t know why he kept backing away. There was something predatory in Clint’s walk. It felt almost like Clint was hunting him, stalking him. Coulson felt the wall at his back.

“It’s okay. I totally understand. I’m just some lowly agent. Not important enough for your time. You are very busy.” Clint leaned in closer, pushing Phil up against the wall. Clint was exactly the same height as Phil, and he leaned in, his breath warm on Phil’s face. Clint’s lips ghosted against Phil’s as Clint whispered, “No time at all for your amnesiac husband?” Phil surged forward, unable to contain himself any longer. He grabbed Clint with one arm, sliding the other around behind Clint’s head, and pulled Clint’s mouth to his. The kiss was harsh, fierce, but Clint was kissing back, pushing into Phil’s mouth in his achingly familiar way. Clint’s hands slid inside Phil’s suit jacket, and began to tug at his shirt. Phil felt the material tear at Clint’s ministrations. The thin material of the Phil’s undershirt not stopping him from reveling in the sensations Clint’s calloused hands created as they ran along his abdomen, up his chest and around to his back, pulling their bodies closer together. Clint broke the kiss, pulling his mouth away and pushing his forehead against Phil’s. 

“You are an asshole.” He murmured affectionately into Phil’s mouth. “I thought it was ‘Till death do us part’ not until amnesia strikes.” 

“And you’re a dick. When did you remember?” Phil pulled back a little bit so he could look into his archer’s eyes. 

“Not until I touched your ring, did I actually remember. But I figured it out. I’m not stupid. You left me alone in our apartment last night. Do you know how hollow the room felt? How empty and depressing it was last night? How freaky it was to miss you and not even know what it was I was missing? You suck.”

“And I repeat, you are a dick. That whole thing with the nurse? Seriously? You owe her an apology.” Phil admonished. 

“Asshole. Didn’t even remember your first name, and could you be bothered to tell me? I wanted to get you riled up. Only way to get you back for last night.” Clint placed a small kiss against Phil’s lips before pulling back. “Touch helps. I don’t know why. It’s like I’m there, full color, sensation. And kissing you? So much. So many things. I need you naked. I need to touch you, all of you.” Clint looked up eyes pleading, pupils blown with need. “I need to run my fingers over your body and trace every curve, kiss every scar, and remember everything about you. Now. Please Coul, er, Phil?” Clint smiled a little at his slip, “Please Phil?” Coulson ran his eyes up and down Clint’s form, taking in the hard planes and soft lines of his body. Clint was hard in his boxers, his cock barely restrained by the material. His hair was tousled, lips red and wet from kissing. Phil nodded his head, helpless in the sight of so much desire, reaching up to begin undoing the remains of his shirt.

“Let me. I, let me lead? Just stay.” Clint stepped up, carefully placing his hand on Phil’s chest, his nimble fingers working the buttons. Soon Phil was standing bare chested in medical, and Clint began to slowly walk in a circle around Phil, leaving Phil feeling oddly open and on display. 

Clint paused behind Phil, and after what seemed like an eternity, there was the light press of lips on Phil’s shoulder. Clint’s arms encircle him from behind, putting Clint’s warm, muscled chest against Phil’s back. Clint made a gasping sound in his ear, suddenly pulling tightly. 

“Oh God, Phil. This one, it’s from Alberta, right? You got that pulling my ass out of a holding cell?” Clint’s lips are pressed on a old scar on Phil’s shoulder. Phil nodded, but kept silent, afraid somehow that if he talked, Clint would lose the memory again.

“And this one? Was in the Rangers, before we met.” Clint’s fingers traced a small scar on Phil’s arm. Phil listened, sinking back into Clint, as Clint continued a familiar litany, tracing the multitude of scars on his body. When Clint placed his lips against the ragged scar that Phil knew took up a large portion of his back, Clint made a strangled cry. Phil spun and pulled Clint in close.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I should have warned you before you found that one.” Phil whispered into Clint’s neck, nuzzling at his ear. 

“I lost you. I lost you that time and it was my fault.” 

“It was NOT your fault. And we’ve had this argument a thousand times before. You did not lose me, I’m here.” Coulson raised his head, lips searching, and kissed Clint reverently. 

Clint was suddenly a live wire in Phil’s arms. He bit at Phil’s lip, hands moving to the front of Phil’s pants. Clint undid the button with a practiced hand, and slipped his hand inside Phil’s pants, his strong fingers finding his cock, stroking him. 

“Clint.” Phil groaned, his hips hitched into Clint’s caress. Clint responded by sliding down the front of Phil, lips ghosting over his chest. Clint’s knees hit the ground with a dull thud, and he worked Phil’s pants completely open. 

Phil shuddered as Clint took him into the warm, wet recesses of his mouth. He tried and failed to hold back a groan of pleasure. Phil’s hands reflexively slid into Clint’s hair, and he fought to find his voice, to speak reason.

“Clint, you are breaking all our rules today.” He managed to gasp out. Phil managed not to make a sad sound as Clint moved back, and his lips released the head of Phil’s cock. 

“We’ve got rules?” Clint looked up at Phil, his eyes still full of desire, but Phil could see the confusion there. “Is, I mean, you like this. I know you do.” 

“Nothing below the waist at SHIELD.” 

“So I’ve NEVER blown you in the office?” The confusion faded from Clint’s face, replaced by a determined, wicked grin.

“I wouldn’t say that. If we’re going to do this, let’s at least move to what medical generously calls a bed.” Coulson smiled and pulled Clint up off the floor. 

“Whatever you say, Sir.”


	9. Epilogue

Clint woke up in medical for the second time in three nights. This time he was tucked tightly against his husband, his head pillowed on Phil’s chest, arm thrown over Phil’s midsection. Clint was back in his boxers and Phil was wearing his undershirt along with Clint’s sweat pants. Clint was happy to remember that Coulson didn’t like showing off his scars to most people, that was something that Phil only shared with Clint if he could help it. 

There were still a lot of holes in his memory, but he was feeling pretty confident that whatever happened to him was in the past, and that he could move forward and be okay. Clint leaned into Phil and nuzzled at his neck. 

“Hey Clint.” Coulson mumbled, pulling him in closer. Then Phil’s eyes fluttered open, and he let out a loud sigh.

“You just remembered you’re at work and are going to climb out of bed and put on your Agent Coulson suit, aren’t you?” Clint’s stomach growled suddenly, interrupting his teasing. “On second thought, can you help me hunt up breakfast? I’m suddenly starving.”

Phil just nodded and climbed out of the tiny hospital bed. Clint watched as Coulson locked the door to the room again before changing into yesterday’s suit. The shirt was messed up and missing a couple buttons at the bottom, but he looked mostly presentable. Well, presentable if everyone ignored the wicked bedhead Phil had going on. 

“Hey, Clint? You know I love you, right? I know we don’t say it that often, but I wanted to make sure you remembered that.” 

Clint felt the smile spread across his face. “I know. You too. Even when I couldn’t remember you, I felt so empty without you. Don’t be an asshole like that again.” Clint hopped out the bed, wrapped his arms around Phil, and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Old Spice and Phil. 

“Hey! We brought breakfast! Open up!” Came from the other side of the door, followed by someone loudly knocking. “Don’t make me hack this. I totally can.”

Phil frowned and opened the door. Tony sauntered into the room, followed by Bruce. Tony had a drink carrier with coffees in one hand, and Bruce carried a box of a dozen doughnuts. Clint felt his hunger gnawing at his belly, and practically leapt at the food. “Gimmie! I’m starved.” 

“Yeah,” Tony smirked, “Agent wear you out last night?” 

“Tony, I told you he’d be starving. His body is healing at a very rapid rate while he sleeps, it’s going to leave him hungry. He will most likely need to eat a large breakfast after healing even small wounds.” Bruce was now looking directly at Coulson, but Clint ignored him and stole the box of doughnuts. “If he’s badly injured, you’ll want to try to get a large meal into him before he sleeps, and then follow it by a big breakfast. Medical will be sending up food other than donuts.” Bruce smiled. “Clint, how much did you eat yesterday?”

“A ton.” Clint said around a mouthful of chocolate doughnut. “Nat made bacon for the team yesterday.” 

“There was no bacon! I thought I smelled some, but there was none! I looked.” Tony glared at Clint, accusingly.

“Yeah, cause I ate it.” Clint grinned. 

“Wait,” Phil looked horrified, “Natasha made enough bacon for the entire tower and you ate it all yourself?”

“Hey! Nat helped! And I had a bunch of pancakes. I just figured I was a big eater or something. I mean, it’s not like I remembered my last real breakfast.” 

“In that case, I think I’ll take my doughnut now.” Tony reached for the box, and Clint couldn’t help but play a little keep away. 

Bruce smirked at Clint and Tony before he turned his attention back to Coulson. “It looks like the formula made some chemical changes to Clint’s brain, some of which may be permanent. The healing while sleeping thing will last for at least a few months, but may fade in time. It might not. I’m not sure yet. I’ve got an injection in the works that should help stabilize Clint’s condition and prevent any future memory loss. The loss does seem to be temporary, Carter woke up today and was more aware, knew more about who he was. He was still very confused and unclear on a lot of things. He’ll need to begin psychotherapy.” 

Clint froze in his game, his blood ran cold. Tony ignored Clint’s reaction and grabbed a doughnut. 

“Who’s Carter?” Clint asked. He met Phil’s eyes, and saw from the grimace that passed over Coulson, confirming to Clint that Phil had been keeping back information.

“I meant to give you a full debrief last night,” Coulson started, but at the word debrief, Tony chuckled loudly. Phil ignored Tony and went on, “But someone was dancing with the night nurse when I got here, and things went off plan at that point.”

“Fine, I’m a dick. Debrief me, baby!” Clint winked at Tony when he said it. Coulson started going over all the information that they had gathered yesterday, and Clint felt his horror grow. Once Phil had finished, Clint couldn’t help himself.

“What The Fuck? I had memory loss. I wasn’t useless. You could have let me help with that shit. There was no reason to lock me away in medical like a child.” Clint let his anger show in his eyes as he glared at his husband.

“That wasn’t my call. Fury ordered you here. We’re working on a lead to take down HeadCase, and as soon as we have more, the Avengers will go after him.” Coulson said.

“Including me.” Clint glared defiantly at Phil.

“Yes, most likely. Medical and Psych will have to clear you though. I’d recommend you for the op.” Phil replied.

“I’m going.” Clint said firmly.

“You will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [ArcticMel](http://arcticmel.tumblr.com/), [BrassLizard](http://brasslizard.tumblr.com/), & kyerdun for their Beta edits and encouragement. 
> 
> This fic is written and complete, just doing final edits before the rest go live.


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